The Song That Is Irresistible
by sallydurant
Summary: They were beautiful and they were deadly, they roamed the sea singing their enchanting songs of loneliness, despair, and love. They never aged, never spoke, and could never die. That is, unless they were to fall in love.


**A/N:**

Since I don't think merfolk would adhere to the heterosexist gender norms forced on us by a predominantly white, cis, heteropatriarchal society, certain characters (Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Marius) are rule 63'd. Also misandrist mermaids is like my favourite trope over, although I suppose these merfolk are more... misanthropic than misandrist

* * *

They were beautiful and they were deadly, they roamed the sea singing their enchanting songs of loneliness, despair, and love. They never aged, never spoke, and could never die. That is, unless they were to fall in love.

However, they did not know this. The way their people lived was a sad one, but it was all they knew. They were taught from a young age all the ways to draw humans to them; with their voices; with their eyes; with their touch. Humans were prey, and once a human was enthralled, they were dragged underwater, struggling until their bodies went limp. All the people were told was that humans were savage beasts who would gut them and leave them for dead. This is what they were taught. Parents told their children what they had learned from their own parents, so on for generations. Only a few of the oldest of their kind knew the truth. They knew that if the younger generations were to learn the power humans held over them, they would be in grave danger. It was better for them not to know. The ocean would be their home forever, and they would never have to grow old or die.

* * *

Their people went by many names; siren, merfolk, witches. There were thousands of them scattered across the Atlantic Ocean, but very few lived alone. A siren could go centuries without seeing any face besides those of their family. On rare occasions, a member of the family would choose to leave, and they were usually never heard from again. One of the smallest existing families was Les Amis. Generally most families ranged from twenty to fifty.

Fantine, Dahlia, and Favourite were the mothers of this particular family. No one knew which children were born to whom, and no one questioned it or cared. They all played an equally important part in raising and caring for their children. Fantine was the most nurturing of the three. She would hold the children and sing songs of comfort, rocking them gently to sleep if needed. Dahlia went about her comfort in a different way. She sang melodies and stroked the children's hair, but her method was to distract. She would take the children's minds off whatever troubled them until they could barely remember why they were upset in the first place. Favourite was the most authoritative of the three. She would hold the children and pat their heads, but her songs gave the impression of tough love. The three of them shared an equal, all-encompassing love for their many children.

There was Jehan, their child of words. His auburn hair flowed almost to his waist, and it often had water lilies and coral woven in. His voice was strong and deep, in contrast with his slight appearance. His speech was often rhythmic and tended to rhyme, and his song was the most intoxicating. He had the ability to make others do as he pleased through charm. He took the most care to stay away from humans when they were near. He would do what he needed to protect his family, and wouldn't hesitate to snap the neck of any man who threatened those he cared about, but otherwise he was disgusted by killing.

Courfeyrac, opposite of Jehan in that respect, was the most flighty of her siblings, and the most dangerous. She took great pleasure in drawing men close and teasing them with almost-kisses before tightening her grip on them and sinking underwater, holding them as they struggled and clawing ineffectively at her. She would watch them fight for air as they died in her embrace. She didn't do it for pure pleasure however, she knew it was necessary. She saw the way the men would look at her family, knew what they were capable of, and she sought to destroy the threat before it became an issue.

Cosette shared Jehan's gentle soul, and hated seeing harm befall any creature. The kindest and most compassionate of her siblings, she was perhaps secretly an angel, her chestnut hair forming the halo. She cried for nights on end the first time she killed someone, and she did it even less than Jehan. It pained her to see the anguish in a man's eyes. Compassion was both her weakness and her greatest strength.

Eponine took after Favourite. She was the most lethal of her sisters, sharing Courfeyrac's penchant for slaughter. She was the least attractive of her siblings. However, she was far from unsightly or ugly. She was beautiful in an ethereal sense, like all of her kind, but it possessed a sort of animalistic quality that was somewhat terrifying. Conversely she did had a huge capacity for love and was fiercely protective of her family.

Musichetta was the oldest of all her siblings, five centuries old, with eyes that told wordless stories. She was tender and passionate and kind and she was the most loving creature you would ever come across. She was however, as humans would put it, spoilt. She was famished for attention, always doing tricks with her tail, and flips for her brothers and sisters, smiling widely when they praised her for her efforts. She was incredibly loyal and unbelievably powerful. No one would dare cross her for fear of their continued existence.

Musichetta was the oldest and Enjolras was the youngest. Only two centuries old. He was "something special" as one of his mothers put it. He was beautiful and incredibly so; his people had an unearthly sort of beauty that inexplicably allured, but his was something no one could properly describe. His hair was even longer than Jehan's, but it was never as decorated as much as his brother and sisters' own were. It was quite possible, if he wanted to, for him to have more kills than his family put together. So rich was the timbre of his voice; it echoed and had a magnetism that drew more humans than he wished would come. He wasn't averse to killing, but it wasn't something he was eager to do. He found it unnecessary. There were so many things he could learn from humans. He was, possibly the only one in his family to think this way. He found them fascinating and had only very rarely seen the cruelty his ancestors claimed they possessed. He saw them as an opportunity for freedom, and oh how right he was. He didn't want to be free from his family, or from his life, he wanted to explore. He knew there was more for him to see, more for him to know, and he had the entire ocean to discover, and he very well could if he wanted. His family was free to roam, other families instinctively moved when they felt a different one nearing them, and come back home; but land was what he wanted to see. To be able to roam without fear of pain would be something amazing. And he wished for it more than anything. Wishing to Enjolras however, was what other people would call planning.

Sometimes his siblings would come upon him during his planning, and if they were apprehensive at first, his enthusiasm caught like a disease. He sang of unseen places, and worlds that they never thought to imagine. It was intoxicating, how wild he drove them, how he made them think, how helped them to see something outside of what they'd always known, something new, something different, something that could be good.

* * *

The first of them to leave was actually Fantine. No one understood how it happened. One day she ventured further than her family would go and she came back with a dreamy smile on her face. Dahlia and Favourite thought nothing of it, and her children thought even less. Her visits away became more and more frequent, and she always came back with a smile and with a look that told she found something she couldn't explain. It wasn't until there was a whisper of "Felix" in her sleep that she aroused any suspicion.

And then one day she never came back. Dahlia and Favourite were saddened for a bit, and then they went on as though nothing happened. It was if they expected her to come back eventually. They went on as usual, and so did their children, until they saw her again. She was on a boat with a man who held her as she stood, searching. She sang a song she was used to singing before, hoping her family would come out to see her, but her voice sounded different. She had two things grown out of her tail and it terrified them into silence. She looked... human. She was still beautiful, but it had a human quality about it now. They didn't understand what was going on and so no one reached out to her.

She didn't come back for a while.

What they saw scared them. It scared them, but they were amazed by it. This thing looked like Fantine, it sounded like her to a certain extent. All the mannerisms were same, but she wasn't. She was human. She was something they were conditioned to hate.

Jehan thought it was witchcraft, and Cosette and Courfeyrac thought the same. Eponine thought it was nonsense and that it couldn't possibly be their mother. Musichetta thought it was a curse that she needed to break. And Enjolras... he thought it was extraordinary.

The next time she came back, she looked even different from before. There was a sadness in her eyes as she sang, and she was alone. They hid from her again. Enjolras longed to go out and see her, and Cosette did too. Dahlia and Favourite held them both tight.

The next time she came back all of her hair was gone. Not a blonde lock was to be seen; only short little tufts. She pleaded with her song this time. Enjolras and Cosette fought from their mothers' arms trying to escape to see her, one for eagerness, and one for sadness.

This continued frequently. She came. She sang. She left dejectedly.

She came one more time but she didn't sing. She yelled out in a tongue that was strange to them. They were all confused with the lack of melody in her voice and with the torment it contained. Cosette cried as she tried to fight her way out of her mother's arms and for the first time Enjolras looked worried as he tried to escape. Even Jehan looked ready to bolt out and comfort her. Only Courfeyrac's hand on his arm stopped him.

She never came back again.

* * *

Dahlia and Favourite grieved more than they did before when they realized she wasn't coming back. Favourite let out a vicious shriek after Fantine had left miserably. They both grew more feral. Truthfully it had begun to scare their children. Any person who dared to venture onto their waters was brutally murdered. They became sharks and everyone else was their prey. Of course, they still cared for their children as best they could with a broken heart, but it was hard for them. Sometimes Jehan would come across one of them weeping. He would cast them a forlorn look and wade away sadly. The first time he had tried to comfort them, they hissed at him; the next time Favourite bit him. She hastily apologized, but it had the desired effect. They were left alone.

Enjolras looked at his mothers with something that was not quite pity, but it wasn't acceptance either. He still thought what happened to his mother was something amazing, but he begun to understand the risks associated with it. It didn't damper his dreams; it made him more meticulous in his planning. His siblings still assisted him when he needed them. They shared Enjolras' views in this area. Courfeyrac began having dreams of walking on land. She wondered if perchance she was wrong about humans. It didn't dampen her ferocious desire to protect her family at all costs, but it did make her think. Musichetta often tried to imitate Fantine's last words to them. The closest she could get was "pee-uh-z". It never contained the same torment it did when Fantine cried it and it still came out in a melody. Cosette took a piece of seaweed and corals and made something that almost imitated the thing she saw around her mother's neck when she came to visit. She didn't have it the last time and Cosette thought it was beautiful. Jehan found a trunk of books from the last shipwreck that happened on their waters and devoured them. He could not properly understand what the strange words were but he loved looking at them. He soon began to understand how to sound them out. He gave some to Enjolras when he was done, keeping his favourites to himself. Enjolras learned to read them at an astounding pace; he even sounded them out in a tuneful melody. Eponine wanted nothing to do with the entire thing. Bitterness at losing their mother surrounded her like a murky darkness that no one was able to completely erase.

Enjolras started to teach them all how to read when he learned as best as he could. They were all, with the exception of Eponine, eager to learn how. Eponine looked at them with disgust whenever she saw them having one of their lessons, yet she listened raptly to Enjolras' every word. If she wanted, she would have been able to read faster than them all, but resentment still clung to her like chains leaving her unable to do anything but sulk and glare, unable to dream any more.

Soon after these lessons started, Dahlia and Favourite left them. Again, no one could tell quite how it happened. One minute they were there, the next minute they left together, promising to come back and never doing so. Now it wasn't that they didn't love their children for they did, but they could not bear the reminder of their lost sister. They left only when they thought their children could fend for themselves, they left to nurse their broken hearts, and they never returned.

* * *

Combeferre looked out at the sea. She never planned on becoming the captain of this great ship. She had a beautiful crew. It was filled with amazing idealistic minds ready to change the world, and Grantaire. No one on this ship, not even Grantaire as cynical as he was, had ever dreamed they would ever become pirates. They were sent out by the King to go to Africa. It so happened that a few people on the ship were firmly against the slave trade and they couldn't go about doing the job they had to do. Combeferre, who had long dressed as a male and perfected the art of deepening her voice to be able to do the job she wanted, rallied the people. They had secret meetings to plan a way out of their conundrum. None of them planned for this. Going to other people's lands for gold made sense, but to enslave people was something they would not partake in.

Bossuet had mainly come on this ship because Joly was there. He was something of a philanderer and a drinker with the most terrible luck to boot. When he'd lost all of his money he'd taken it in good spirits and Joly decided that they should board together. Joly was the closest friend he had, and he was also his means of shelter, so it just made sense for them to be together.

Joly had come because he was a doctor and every ship needs a medic. He wanted to do his patriotic duty and tend to the sailors who were travelling for goods.

Grantaire came as a means of escape. He told no one what he wanted to escape, but it involved owing some bad people a huge sum of money. He was a notorious gambler, and a "connoisseur of the spirits," (he was a drunk), and he got the quickest job he could get that would involve him leaving the country.

Bahorel, Bossuet and Grantaire were labourers. They did most of the heavy work when it came to sailing. Bahorel was a boxer, and a gambler. He had a loud, rambunctious personality, but he was so jovial you couldn't help but smile with him.

Feuilly was a working class man who needed money. He grew up as a gamin, although he rarely talked about it. He used to make fans for the wealthy; he had nimble fingers and could do the most intricate designs, before his makeshift business fell through. He was a self-made man who always sought to better himself; he'd come on the ship as a labourer and slowly but surely worked his way up the ranks.

Combeferre was born to a wealthy family. She had been, since she was small, typically uninterested in settling down and becoming someone's wife. She wanted to learn and see new things. Curiosity was as normal to her as breathing. She liked learning and was dejected when at the age of fourteen she was told that her education was over and that in two years she was to be married to a wealthy business partner. She pleaded with her mother. She didn't want to go through with it and she'd hoped her parents wouldn't make her. She was wrong. She ran away a year later to Paris. She was young, and for the first time in her life she'd done something without thinking. She left her old home in a rush and didn't take any money or clothes. She quickly learned that for a woman in her position with no life skills, she would end up selling her body or she would end up dead. She made the only logical decision she could have possibly made at the time. She'd bound her fairly busty chest, she started dressing as a man, and since she didn't have any papers, she took a lot of shady work.

* * *

It was Bahorel who suggested mutiny. It meant something big. It meant a massacre. Was that something Combeferre was willing to sacrifice? She wasn't sure. In the end she didn't have a choice. It happened in such a spur of the moment that not even the conspirators saw it coming.

It was bloody, and they lost eight people they considered friends, but they won. They won on pure cunning and because of two people (Bahorel and Grantaire) with amazing physical strength.

And thirteen became six.

* * *

Combeferre never told anyone about her gender, and she was so used to keeping it a secret that she kept on doing so. Bossuet once mentioned that she probably was probably as bald as him the way she wore her hat, never taking it off. Bahorel looked at her critically when this comment was made, but said nothing about it. Honestly it was a bit of a setback for her, but Combeferre loved her hair too much to chop it off completely. After that, she cut it medium length and started wearing it like Joly's, with a short ponytail. She'd never been okay with how people her gender were treated by society.

It was unwise to remain on a ship so vast, with only six members. A ship, which would soon be found out, was containing traitors to their country. It was then that they decided that they had to resort to theft. They sailed until they found a boat small enough to overpower, but not so small that it would be dangerous for all of them to survive on it. It was hard work and even bloodier than their previous battle, although luckily no lives were lost on their side this time. They were unlucky in realising that they were attacking a pirate ship only after they had snuck onboard. They made a hole at the bottom of their old ship before jumping overboard and scaling this ship. There would be no going back.

When they had finally won, they all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

* * *

They lived on the ship for two days before they heard knocking coming from under the deck. It startled Joly, who hesitantly ventured to the lower deck. It was perhaps carelessness that they didn't check out the ship in its entirety. Joly ran back up deck, breathless with his news.

"There's... d-down below - There's someone there!" he exclaimed.

Combeferre looked at Feuilly with something akin to terror on her face.

They went together, all except Bossuet and Grantaire, who stayed above board for security and to watch for oncoming rocks or rough waters.

As they neared the compartment in the lower deck where Joly heard the noise, they stilled, waiting for movement. Bahorel used his strength to break down the door, and out tumbled a pretty maiden dressed in black.

"Please don't kill me," were the only words she spoke, as she tumbled to her knees. She looked up imploringly at Combeferre who seemed to be the person in charge. The woman looked as though she'd been attacked. Her hair was in knots, her dress was torn, and her face was battered. Joly tried to take her hand and she shied away. She looked nervous and ready to dart.

"Why would we kill you?" asked Combeferre gently, gesturing for Joly to help her up. The woman looked confused and she hesitantly took his hand. Joly helped her stand and steadied her as she looked ready to fall.

"Take her upstairs and see to her," Bahorel said brusquely before turning to Combeferre. They both got the idea and they slowly helped the woman upstairs.

"This was a pirate ship... Do you not remember?" he said, when Joly and Feuilly were out of earshot.

"Of course..."

"She's a woman. Pirates believe women make their ships cursed," Bahorel stated. "Can't say they were wrong, since they're all dead now." He now had a smirk upon his lips.

"I see," replied Combeferre, troubled. She had read about this somewhere, but reading and seeing were two different things. She knew about that silly belief and it was the main reason for her identity switch. She wanted to explore the world, and one couldn't board a vessel with that intent as a woman because of that silly belief. She seemed lost in thought as Bahorel and she headed back upstairs.

They got back up to see Joly tending to her wounds, and Bossuet and Feuilly fretting about her, asking her if she needed anything. Grantaire kept his distance, for the lady looked overwhelmed, to put it lightly.

Combeferre, as if broken from a stupor, walked briskly over to the girl and knelt in front of her.

"Mademoiselle, may I ask you your name?"

"I-it is Mariette. Mariette P-Pontmercy," she stuttered. "Please, if you are to kill me, please just m-make it quick."

No one looked shocked; it seemed as if this was a repeated mantra since she came above deck.

Combeferre took Mariette's hand in her own and said and gently as she possibly could, "No one here would ever hurt you. That is not who we are." She ignored Grantaire's derisive snort and continued: "You're free to stay here as long as you need."

Mariette looked as though she was about to cry. "Thank you, Monsieur."

When Combeferre looked up helplessly at her peers, Grantaire had disappeared. Joly, who was finished patching her up, rested his hand on her shoulder.

"What is the matter, little one?" Feuilly asked.

Combeferre almost rolled her eyes at the patronizing tone, but she too waited for the answer.

"You do me a great kindness and I am grateful, I truly am, but how do I know you're being truthful? I know my sex scares people like you. I-I don't mean any form of disrespect, but the last crew on this ship made the same promise. They said I would be fine and then..." She trailed off, apprehensive; she seemed to have regretted opening her mouth.

Combeferre, for once, was out of words. She seemed to be weighing her options before sighing heavily. She stood slowly and Mariette watched her warily. She slowly undid her cravat, and shrugged out of her shirt to reveal the bandages below that bound her breasts. Feuilly's lips formed a tiny "o" and Joly and Bossuet instantly averted their eyes. Bahorel alone seemed unimpressed with this revelation.

Everyone was silent until Grantaire bounded back out on deck with two bottles of wine. "I got some spirits for the mademoiselle and obviously some for myself! I can't be expected to watch this drama with a clear head..." He trailed off as he took in the scene in front of him. Combeferre by this point had folded her arms around her chest and was looking calmly at Mariette, while everyone else looked on in shock "By the Gods! What on earth did I miss?"

For another beat there was silence, and then, "None of my crew will kill you, for they would have to do the same to me," she spoke out. "And we have become something of a family this past year. You have absolutely nothing to worry about."

Mariette visibly relaxed, but Grantaire cleared his throat awkwardly. Combeferre looked at him curiously before realizing her state of undress and putting on her shirt again.

* * *

After this revelation, Combeferre stopped bandaging her breasts. The bruises and cuts on her sides were enough to make not want to do it again, if she needn't. However, she still kept her usual clothes. She quite preferred wearing pants as opposed to dresses. No one batted an eyelash at this change. The question of why Combeferre never told them about who she was was not a question that was ever asked. Her friends trusted her fully and they still believed she was the most capable to lead. Instead they sought after a way to fit Mariette into their little family. They found out that her father was the previous captain of this ship. She never knew him, but when she found out, he always wanted to know how she snuck aboard his ship. She was on board for all of one hour before she found out he was dying. The crew gave her a moment to grieve and then they hauled her and stuck her where they found her. She'd been there for two days before Combeferre's crew found her. It was lucky that the previous crew was going through a period of unrest, and fighting and trying to establish a different hierarchy when they were attacked or it would have been a more brutal fight.

It was simple for Mariette, or Mari as they'd taken to calling her, to settle into their lifestyle. She slept in the tiny compartment Combeferre called her room; she ate very little and wanted for even less. She was unobtrusive and never got in anybody's way. She was keen on getting lost in her mind. A daydreamer at heart, they never entrusted her with any important duties. She just thought herself lucky to be alive, to be with such a splendid crew who wouldn't hurt her or kill her. It was an easy life for her and she was grateful.

However, the people she allied herself with were still outlaws, traitors to their homeland, and they survived in the only way possible. They overpowered smaller ships, and they stole whatever they could. Gold, pearls, jewellry, food, wine, money - "It may not be of any use now, but you never know when we'd need it," Bahorel remarked - Whatever they could get their hands on.

* * *

Feuilly stopped in front of Combeferre's chambers one morning hesitating for a bit before knocking firmly.

Combeferre, who no one has ever caught in anything less than impeccable attire, which Bahorel seemed to appreciate, answered her door with a gentle smile.

"We're about to experience a storm," Feuilly said bluntly, not wanting to sugar coat anything for his captain.

As expected, Combeferre sharpened instantly. They'd only ever experienced a storm when on their other ship, and it had been hard to survive. This ship was much smaller so they would need to work even harder, and with even less people.

* * *

It was at this time that Enjolras and his family saw a ship in the middle of their home when they'd come to the surface. There was an anchor dropped, and it was obvious that they meant to stay there for a while. Eponine, who still grew incensed anytime she thought of her mothers, actually growled.

"I c'n get rid of 'em if ya want?" They'd all taken to singing in both their natural tongue and the human language. Eponine, being the only one who outright refused any form of lessons, all the while listening on with rapt attention, had the most problems speaking in human tongue.

"No." Enjolras looked at the ship brightly. Courfeyrac seemed a little uneasy and so did Musichetta, but he glanced at Cosette and at Jehan and they looked like they agreed with him.

"We leave them there. They've done no harm."

"'N if they do 'ny 'arm?"

"Then we'll be sure take care of it," Enjolras said darkly.

* * *

The first time Grantaire saw her he thought he had gone mad, because surely he couldn't have been drunk, certainly not that drunk. He was looking at an angel, a golden-haired angel with a long mane and gentle features. She was the most beautiful person Grantaire had ever seen. His thoughts weren't even lustful. He just wanted to draw her. Or paint her. Or sculpt her. Or create an entire museum dedicated to her cheekbones. She was on her own and she was flipping her tail – HER GODDAMNED TAIL! – and passing her fingers through her hair. Grantaire wasn't sure what to think. He looked at his bottle of absinthe, of which he hadn't even drank a quarter of, and then back at the fish... thing... person. He was, however, intoxicated enough to jump into the water. The woman had startled at the loud splash and glared at him before diving underwater. Grantaire now thought himself foolish as he waded in the ocean, the unchartered ocean, that probably contained sharks, and he was probably about to die because of a drunken hallucination. Those were the thoughts running through his head as he felt himself being pulled underwater. He scrambled to hold on to something, anything really, as something clutched his waist and dragged him down further. And he saw her again, upon close inspection this maiden was actually a man...fish. It looked at him with a fierce determination that seemed to flounder. Grantaire wasn't sure why, but he was desperate for air, and he could feel his lungs giving out but he couldn't keep his eyes off this thing. He stretched a hand out tentatively and ran it hand through the creature's silky hair. The creature looked confused for a moment before clutching him tighter, and then letting him go.

Dear reader, if you ask Grantaire why he did what he did next, he wouldn't be able to explain it to you. Perhaps it was madness, or it was desperation, but this creature struck something magical in him.

As soon as he reached the surface, he gasped for air for a moment before diving back into the water. He'd rather die than never see that face again. He found himself being hauled back up to the surface; and really how on earth was this tiny, frail little thing stronger than him?

"Don't be foolish. I let you go," it sang at him. It sang! His voice (and it was definitely a "he") was miraculous. Grantaire wanted to write sonnets about that voice. It's been so long since he wanted to do anything artistic, but he felt like he needed to or he would burst.

"I don't want to go," Grantaire gasped, still desperate for air. "I-I..."

This thing looked at Enjolras curiously before Grantaire smiled. "You probably think I was born in a cave. My name is Grantaire." Grantaire bowed as best he could while treading dangerous waters.

The creature looked behind him for a moment before sighing sweetly, "You really must go." And he started to swim away when Grantaire called out.

"Wait! I want to see you again." Grantaire at this point had not a clue what he was doing. Normally verbose, he was now unable to speak coherently. "We're here for a few days. My crew, I mean. We're here for a few days and I want to see you again. I need to see you again."

The creature seemed to weigh its options before sighing yet again. "Meet me back here tomorrow at this time." He then dashed off with great speed, leaving Grantaire to tread empty waters.

* * *

But he didn't return the next night, or the next, or the next. Grantaire thought himself foolish. He had hoped... Well, that was it, wasn't it? Blind hope? He harshly rejected the optimistic, he criticized the romantic and here he was, for the fourth night, waiting for this golden-haired angel.

He shrugged it off as a drunken hallucination as he swam back to the ship. His mates were beyond curious as to why he returned to his room every night, soaking wet, when they were worrying about an oncoming storm. What he didn't expect was for Mari, of all people, to follow him that night.

He didn't hear the tiny splash as she swam towards him, calling, "R! Wait!" It was only when she grabbed his arm and spun him around that he first noticed her there; so consumed was he with thoughts of this mysterious creature.

"I do apologize for following you out," she gasped. She was quite unused to swimming, unlike everyone else on board. When they came into the water to bathe, she went to Combeferre who patiently taught her how to navigate through the water. "But you're worrying everyone else. People think I spend my time in a dream-like haze, unable to notice my surroundings, but you are all wrong. I notice things when I have to."

Grantaire looked at her distractedly before taking the hand that was still on his arm and holding it in his. "Gentle now, young one."

"And there's that, too!" Mariette pulled her hand away, looking affronted. "Joly's the youngest of us all, and no one calls him silly names like that. 'Young one' indeed!"

"Ah I didn't mean to offend, dear Pontmercy." Grantaire's mind still wasn't all there as he spoke to her. He only noticed how wide her eyes were when he glanced at her again.

"Wh-who is that?" Mari was looking over his shoulder. Grantaire spun around instantly and he saw him. Beside him was another one like him, but Grantaire could hardly notice in the face of such exquisiteness.

Mariette hid behind his shoulder as they neared, her wide eyes still on the thing beside Grantaire's angel.

"Hello."

"Hey." Grantaire smiled. He was secretly glad when Mari's hand clutched tighter on his shoulder. As dazzled as he was by this creature, whose name he still didn't know, he did remember in a somewhat hazy way that he was almost drowned on their first meeting and he would never purposely endanger his friends, hence him not mentioning anything about his encounter.

They looked at each other for a moment before Mari cleared her throat. It was obvious that she was still scared, given the way the creatures opposite them were glaring at them.

"R!" Mari tugged on his undershirt "I don't understand what's going on. I want to go."

Grantaire was torn between his angel and the girl who had become somewhat of a friend. The girl next to his golden god sensed the disturbance and turned her grimace into a smile.

"There's nothing to worry about. I'm Courfeyrac, I'm Enjolras' sister."

Her voice was soothing and beautiful – though nothing compared to her brother's – as she held out her hand for Mariette to take. Now that Grantaire took notice, she was stunning. Her hair cascaded down her back in gentle curls. She had corals woven into a crown on her head and she held her head high and her bare chest raised. She was unaware or perhaps unconcerned with her nudity. Mari hesitantly waded away from Grantaire to this Courfeyrac leaving Enjolras to stare at Grantaire.

"You brought a friend this time. That was wise."

"It wasn't the plan, I'm afraid. Mariette followed me here."

Enjolras - oh what a glorious name! - pursed his lips, and even then he looked as striking as anyone could ever look.

"Do you have no form of self-preservation? On our first meeting I tried to kill you. Do you not believe I'd try again?"This would have sounded like chastisement if anyone else had said it, but with Enjolras, there was only unrestrained curiosity.

"Would you?"

Enjolras gave a long suffering sigh, which really was strange as this really was only their second meeting. "No."

They stared at each other without saying a word. And I must interject here, dear reader, to explain the significance of what transpired. It sometimes happens that a moment of silence is enough; enough for two intelligent minds to look into each other's hearts and know the other completely. They wouldn't be able to know each other intimately and perhaps it is similar to judging a book by its cover, but it is a useful method practiced when meeting another intelligent mind.

It was Grantaire who broke this silence. "Is it okay if I ask what you are, for I must admit that you have bewitched me in a way I would have never thought possible. You have caused me to think of a reality outside of my own. Do demons truly exist? And if so, do angels? Does God? Were the fey a real people, and are the stories I scoffed at as a child true? How fascinating! How embarrassing! And now I must know! I must know everything. Are you a demon or an angel, a monster or a friend?"

"I am...neither."

"Bah! Well, that is not quite the answer I expected, but I suppose it will have to do." After a moment of comfortable silence, Grantaire stated, "You're a strange thing, do you know that?"

"In what way, might I ask?"

"You have caused me to do something I never thought possible since I was a tiny, little bairn." Grantaire almost smiled again, but this time it was clouded with doubt. "Hope. Oh how foreign this feels! How strange. And I think I could like it, I could, but it's so far from what I'm used to I don't know if I want to."

"Why do you not hope then? It is a beautiful thing. Hope is truth. It is guidance. It-"

"-is foolish. And it is painful. Ah but I don't expect you to understand it. You live in this magical world of fairies and elves and pixies. Hope is sometimes very dark my friend, and very useless."

Enjolras stilled in quiet contemplation. They could hear Mariette and Courfeyrac's friendly and increasingly enthusiastic chatter. "I think you're wrong," he said finally. "Hope and faith can't be much different in your world than it is in mine. You say it is reminiscent of darkness, but it is also light. If I had nothing to anticipate then what is the use of living? Would I wade through each day waiting for it to pass, just knowing that nothing could be better, that nothing can change? That is not a life that seems worth living."

The fierce determination written upon Enjolras' countenance left Grantaire speechless. There were so many half-formed arguments in his mind and he tried to open his mouth to debate them, but he couldn't.

Just then, Mariette popped up behind Grantaire and tapped his shoulder. "Courfeyrac says they have to go now." She was smiling now, completely at ease. "They're coming back tomorrow." At Courfeyrac's smile, and Enjolras' half-a-grimace, they both swam back to their ship. Mari seemed happy to make a new friend, and Grantaire was confused. He made his way back to his quarters in a daze. He barely heard Mariette bid him goodnight and traipse off to her room. He lay in his little bed and thought over the night's proceedings. Some part of him was attracted to Enjolras and not just his appearance, although it didn't hurt. It was he. He had an essence of resolve and fortitude and it was as terrifying as it was beautiful. But another part warned Grantaire to run away. What business had he getting involved with this business? This was better left to the romantics. The people who believed in these people, these beings, people who could bring something of value to Enjolras' life. But how could he stay away!

The entire evening left Grantaire completely unsettled.

* * *

"She was lovely!" Courfeyrac smiled all the way back to their brother and sisters. "And gorgeous."

"I'm sure she was, sister." Enjolras's lips quirked upwards. He was used to Courfeyrac's antics, although he was slightly confused. Last he checked, Courfeyrac still wasn't exactly sure about humanity.

"You didn't even notice her, did you? I'm sure you were too busy with that ugly thing."

"Grantaire isn't ugly, albeit he is very... strange."

"Ah, I meant no offence, darling brother." Courfeyrac smiled; her mood wasn't to be deteriorated.

"You never notice such things anyway."

"Perhaps not," Enjolras conceded.

Their family was waiting for them and they heard questions already being shot at them as they neared.

"What were they like?"

"Why can't I meet them?"

"Were they interesting?"

"Did they like you? Are you going to see them again?"

"Yes!" Courfeyrac responded in her natural tongue with a smug smile. "We're going to see them tomorrow and Mariette says she's going to bring things called a "comb and brush"? I'm not sure what it is but it sounds delightful."

Eponine rolled her eyes as Courfeyrac went on and on. She and the girl Mariette spent their time talking about traditional female customs where she was from, and Courfeyrac relayed every single detail.

"That in't nothin' for you ta smile 'bout," Eponine scowled. The use of human speech burst through their bubble of enthusiasm and Courfeyrac's smile faded temporarily.

"That world in't meant for p'ple like us." She drifted away from them and Musichetta sighed, casting the others a sad look before floating after her.

"She's not wrong," Enjolras interjected after a moment of silence. "It appears that their world is rife with inequality, but that doesn't mean that it is something to be hated or to fear. Even more so it is something to be cherished. It is something we can attempt to fix."

"Right as you may be," Courfeyrac hesitantly supplied, "We are still ignorant of their world and what effects it could have on us."

"We don't even know how we can join their world," Jehan added. His voice had taken on a note of longing.

"No. We can, however, find out," said Enjolras.

* * *

**A/N:**

This was supposed to be only two chapters, but I am in the middle of writing chapter two, and I've already gotten carried away, so I'm not sure how many chapters there'll be. I'm hoping for about 3 or 4.

This is set in the early 16th century and it's a little bit (a lot) historically inaccurate, but hey alternate reality and all that.

If you have any questions please feel free to ask. Thanks for reading.


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